Just Balance
by TheMortician'sDaughter
Summary: But right now, with Bruce's head tucked comfortably against her shoulder and Tony snoring softly against her stomach, their linked hands resting limply over Pepper's side, it was pretty damn close to perfect. Because, for Pepper, the closest she could get to perfect was some kind of balance. This was it.


**The timing of Pepper Week 2014 could not be better, with the end of the semester and me finally having time to write for enjoyment again.**

**The theme for Pepper Week Day 2 is "favorite relationship," and I have tons of those for her but I love Bruce/Pepper/Tony sososososo much so I decided to go with that one. Dr. Pepperony is also severely under appreciated, so I wanted to give it some love.**

**So... I hope you all like. It's good to be back.**

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><p>Pepper still wondered sometimes how she'd gotten here.<p>

She'd never really been one for dating in her younger days—maybe a few short-term flings here and there, but there had always been too much work, too little time for anything that wasn't her conquest to make a name for herself. There weren't enough hours in the day or days in a week for her to even _think _about investing some of her much-needed time in somebody _else. _And that wasn't her being selfish, she didn't think. It was her being _independent, _like she'd always been taught to be.

Then Tony Stark came barreling into her life, and suddenly investing her time in somebody else became her work.

And then after their highs and lows and twists and turns and chaos and peace, somebody else inched his way in as quietly and unassumingly as he entered anything, really.

Now, investing her time in others was just her _life. _

She didn't mind.

In fact, she really liked it. Loved it, even, especially at times like now when the morning sun filtered through the expansive glass wall of the bedroom and she was the first one awake, still sandwiched warmly between the still-sleeping Tony and Bruce. Things like this used to be a rarity, back when the relationship was still new and breaking old habits was rough. Sometimes things were still rough, because all of them were far from perfect and any relationship involving two deathwish-toting superheroes wasn't going to be smooth sailing.

But right now, with Bruce's head tucked comfortably against her shoulder and Tony snoring softly against her stomach, their linked hands resting limply over Pepper's side, it was pretty damn close.

Because, for Pepper, the closest she could get to perfect was some kind of balance. This was it.

Tony, for his part, was still the high-maintenance resident troublemaker he always had been; the overgrown child who dealt with his problems by acting on impulses that usually ended badly for everyone. Time with Tony was normally fast-paced, chaotic, high-energy—the kind of disarray that all of them admittedly needed to stay sane. That, however, was when he was _the _Tony Stark, _the _Iron Man. Other times, like right now, he was Just Tony. Just Tony that only Pepper and Bruce saw. Just Tony that could love and be loved and make up his third of the balance.

Bruce, on the other hand, was almost the polar opposite. He was still an accomplished genius and an Avenger and a passionate lover in the same ways Tony was, but he was… different. He was calm and sweet and gentle, all of which made Tony and Pepper both fall for him quick and hard. But Bruce was also fiercely protective, in his own dry, blunt way—and he had to be, because the man had lost too much and loved too little in his life to even consider letting this go. On occasion that fierceness could translate into something much bigger and greener, but even that wasn't enough to take away from the fact that most of the time he was still Just Bruce. Just Bruce who could protect and be protected, and had finally found the place he belonged.

It had taken Pepper quite a while to figure out exactly where she fit on that spectrum. If Tony was the hurricane and Bruce was the eye of the storm, then where did that leave her? For the longest time she thought her place was the cleanup in the aftermath, fixing everything that had been damaged and being drained of all resources in the process. It was a spiral of thought she'd fallen victim to for far too long, until finally she'd realized that wasn't her role at all.

Pepper was not the rescue team or the survival funds or the backup. Pepper was the rain, the winds, the currents that kept it all going; the crucial elements that gave the storm its power, that without it would be nothing but a mere ripple in the sea.

When she wasn't doing that, though, she was Just Pepper. Just Pepper who had finally realized that being independent didn't mean being alone, and Just Pepper that found herself happiest when she was sandwiched between the two most complicated yet still most simple men she knew.

As much as some people often saw it (read: the media), they weren't always the invincible Iron Man and the Incredible Hulk and the compelling CEO of a multinational, billion-dollar industry. Sometimes they were Just Tony, and Just Bruce, and Just Pepper. Right now was one of those moments, with the soft morning light in their sleepy eyes and the warm mess of limbs and kisses they'd woken to.

And either way, it just balanced.


End file.
